


to be loved

by honeyteeth



Series: roots [1]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Angst, Crying, Dancing, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Goodbyes, Kissing, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Sobbing, Sweet, also the fuck word is said ONCE in this fic. just warning you now, farewell party, just fucking WEEPING, moomintroll gets fucking PISSED, weepy farewells always get me no homo though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:11:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyteeth/pseuds/honeyteeth
Summary: The day Snufkin is leaving is always a solemn one. However, something seems extra strange, and the Mumrik is acting differently. Anxiety claws at the inside of Moomintroll's chest. What does his beloved have to say? Will things end between them? Would they be okay?





	1. your question

**Author's Note:**

> JUST WARNING YOU RIGHT NOW THIS IS REALLY BAD AND MESSY AND IM SO so sorry aa   
> i wrote this during the week during school, so i didn't have any time to work on it until the nighttime when i'd get sleepy and literally could not comprehend the english language. this weekend, i'll work on something, and try to make it better!

August had ended fast. It seeped quietly, unnoticed, into September, bringing forth whispering winds and leaves flitting down in brilliant reds and oranges. Autumn in Moominvalley was indescribable, beauty and adventure hidden in every crevice. Picking the finest mushrooms, finding stashes of fat acorns long forgotten by squirrels preparing for the winter months, raking up large piles of crunchy leaves and taking a running jump into them. Daring one another to jump into the icy cold river, squealing with joy all the while, having to huddle up in one big dogpile afterward lest anyone catch a  _ terrible  _ cold. There was fishing and cooking and  _ plenty  _ of parties to be held as everybody prepared to fall into a deep slumber for three whole months. Excitement and joy were thick in the air, festivities pouring gold through the windows of every house. 

_ Almost  _ every house. Or at least that’s how it was previously. 

Previously, the very moment a bright orange leaf trembled from its stem and floated to the ground, Moomintroll’s stomach dropped to the earth and he felt as though he could be sick. Sometimes, he  _ would  _ get sick, and he’d have to spend those precious, fleeting, last days of autumn bundled up in his bed. Previously, he’d cry all through the night, knowing that he would be without Snufkin for such a terribly long time. Previously, he’d look over at his Vagabond friend and think  _ he will not come back, he will break his promise  _ and his little troll heart would split wide open right then and there. 

The past few autumns, however, had been different. For five years, now, he and Snufkin had been romantically involved. Or, to put it in much simpler and more appropriate words: they were boyfriends. At first, it was weird-- not dating each other, that is, but it was weird hiding it. They didn’t let anybody see them subtly intertwine their fingers or tails, hid every kiss and every nuzzle, privately snuggled up against one another and mumbled sweet nothings into the other’s fur. Now, however, they were quite a cozy little couple, holding paws as they walked, pouring romance from their lips easily, cozying up beneath willow trees during long summer days and napping softly together, sides pressed together in unspoken affection. Moomintroll loved his Mumrik, and Snufkin, in return, loved his Moomin. It took a short while and a lot of convincing, but soon, Moomintroll managed to understand that perhaps… Snufkin  _ wanted  _ to be around him, and he  _ would  _ come back every spring. And that was all he needed to be content every winter when his best friend, travel buddy, partner in crime--  _ lover,  _ would leave, he was guaranteed to return to the valley.

That, however, had been going on for years now and wasn’t why tonight, of all nights, of all farewell-and-happy-hibernation parties, was particularly unusual. No, it was unusual because things… went  _ back.  _ As in Snufkin seemed as though he were itching to leave, and Moomintroll was growing more and more anxious over the solidity of the Vagabond’s promise. 

Moomintroll woke up slowly to the smell of something wonderful cooking and muffled music from downstairs. It was still dark outside, sunlight not even peeking above the horizon. However, due to the circumstances, his waking was quite late; he usually rose about an hour earlier the first day of winter. He blinked once, twice, three times, trying to coax his eyelids to unstick from one another, feeling the pull of hibernation on his tired body. Today was the day, he thought dismally. Snufkin is leaving. 

He glanced to his side, staring at the space his boyfriend had occupied last night, the mattress still warm and molded to his shape. The pillow still smelled like him, too, earthy and warm like sunshine and wisteria and the icy cold creek they fished at. He would be without that scent for three entire months. He could only pray that he managed to stay asleep all winter long.

Slowly, moving as though the air was molasses, he crawled out of bed and stumbled to the door, tail dragging lazily on the ground and eyes droopy and half-lidded. His fur was an absolute mess, unkempt as it always was when the tug of hibernation hit him full force. Tonight, he wouldn’t be able to wake up. Not until spring, at least. 

“Oh, good morning sleeping beauty,” Snufkin’s comment from the little kitchen downstairs reached Moomintroll’s ears like a song, causing him to smile warmly and sleepily at his boyfriend, who was laying down two plates of pancakes, each one perfectly fluffy and light and spread over with strawberry jam. 

“Hi. Did I wake up terribly late again?” 

“Mm. ‘Fraid so, dove. But that’s alright because it took me a little while to prepare these; the first batch was horrendous. I added too much salt, and well… They tasted more like prison food.” 

“Prison food? How do you know what prison food tastes like?” Moomintroll padded over, coming up behind the slightly taller boy (by half an inch, the troll would always say, to which Snufkin would retort that half an inch made all the difference) and wrapping two sleepy arms around his middle, resting his snout comfortably on Snufkin’s shoulder. 

“Do you seriously need to ask?” 

“I suppose not.” 

The inevitable truth of what was coming hung gloomily in the air, thick and daunting. Neither of them wanted to mention it, though, but it was clear to Moomintroll that the two of them could feel it, heavy and upset on their shoulders, like a bad storm coming. The troll squeezed tight to Snufkin’s middle, who tensed up suddenly. 

Moomintroll let go, stepping back a few paces, surprised at the reaction. Usually, tight squeezes and long hugs were enjoyed and encouraged by his significant other. Never once had he ever grown so stiff under the troll’s touch. So, the little Moomin decided that he needed his space and stayed away from him. Cautiously, he glanced at the Mumrik’s face, who looked….  _ Sick,  _ almost. Pale green, eyebrows furrowed, pupils wild and small. Like something was sincerely bothering him, like he was going to snap at any given moment.

“Snufkin, dear? Are you feeling quite well?” The question came cautious and slow, as though it would activate some sort of negative reaction. 

“Y-yes, sorry,” he turned to Moomintroll and flashed a smile. It seemed as though he had calmed down, but… Something deep behind his eyes was still panicking, nervous, deeply afraid. Hastily, he pulled out a chair and plopped down, beginning to shovel as much pancake as physically possible into his mouth.

Moomintroll sat on the chair catty-corner to the anxious boy, slowly picking at his own breakfast. 

“I’m going to pack up now,” the loud sound of the chair scraping on the wood below caused the troll to look up, eyes wide. Snufkin had never eaten so quickly before, and  _ definitely  _ wasn’t one to excuse himself before Moomin was even finished. He usually took his time, picking up sweet morning conversation, causing Moomintroll to start the day off with blossoms and butterflies flitting about pleasantly in his stomach. This, however, only left a rock deep in the pit of his gut, weighing him down with anxiety. What he had done so wrong? Had he said something? Did he unknowingly cage the Mumrik in during the autumn? He winced as the door clicked shut. Loneliness settled firmly around his heart, as though Snufkin would never walk through that wooden threshold ever again.

 

\-----------------------

 

“Something’s bothering you, dear.” 

The statement caught Moomintroll, as he was peeling a Honeycrisp apple, off guard. Moominmamma’s voice was so genuine and caring that the little troll felt compelled to tell her what had happened during the early, early morning. She always had that effect on him. However, he decided that perhaps Snufkin wanted to keep his discomfort private. 

“I’m alright,” he lied, the words tasting sour on his tongue. 

“You’re quite sure?” She asked again, this time making eye contact with him. That always seemed to break him. It almost did, in fact. It almost got him to spill out his worries as he had when he was just a child-- but he wasn’t. He was an adult, now, all moved out and mature and someone who should know how to deal with problems by himself. 

“Yes, of course, Mamma.” He said firmly, tossing her a breezy smile as he continued with his apple, peeling long, stable strips off of it. He had gotten  _ quite  _ good at peeling apples, having made so many pies over the years. In fact, he was just good at cooking in general; he had learned a little while before he moved out, and was practicing every day (with the exception of winter months), making himself, and usually Snufkin, too, breakfast, lunch, or dinner. The Mumrik would cook, too, though not as much as Moomintroll, and he was only very good at making morning foods. He could, however, make incredible stew, and the young troll looked forward to every night he did the cooking and couldn’t help but shower his boyfriend with praise on his skills. He quite enjoyed the flush that would creep up his neck and to his ears, the bashful smile that he’d try to hide by tilting his head down, trying to hide his face in his mess of strawberry brown hair. 

Moomin’s stomach churned uncomfortably. He wouldn’t lose that, would he? Snufkin wasn’t going to break up with him, right? That wasn’t why he was so jumpy, right? 

...Right? 

Moomintroll decided that he couldn’t dwell on such matters. So he just peeled away, working even as his paws grew sticky and sweet from the fruit, slicing and placing the apples into beautifully made crusts even when he got flour wedged between the tips of his fingers, beneath his claws, molding into clumps in his fur. However, as much as he sliced, rolled, packed or baked, he couldn’t keep his mind from the thoughts swirling around in his skull. Did Snufkin not love him anymore? Perhaps he shouldn’t read too much into it, maybe he had just been nervous that day. But he  _ wasn’t  _ the type to just leave and go without at least providing an explanation as to why he was going. It was never anything detailed, usually just a quick “I need to be alone for a while, so I’m not sleeping at home tonight.” was all Moomin needed to understand that something was bothering the Mumrik and he was more than glad to give his beloved all the space and time in the world. He did have the tendency to get solemn the day he left, but never quite so jittery. Maybe the troll was making him uncomfortable with his antics. 

“You’ve been rolling that dough for the past fifteen minutes, dear, I think it’s fine, now,” Moominmamma’s calm voice snapped her son free of his dreadful mind. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I was thinking about something.”

“I know, love. In fact, why don’t you take a break? You’re not yourself today,” Mamma smiled, nuzzling her snout into the fine fur on his cheek in a Moomin kiss. 

“Sorry,” Moomintroll said softly, before taking her advice and exiting his parents’ house through the kitchen door. 

 

\-----------------------

 

“You’re being so gloomy, and I’d prefer it if you weren’t. You’ll sour my mood, and I always have to be in a good mood before I sleep. I’ll have nightmares if I’m not!” Little My was currently grumbling at a very solemn white lump amongst the fallen leaves. “Would you  _ please  _ cheer up? It’s so annoying having to deal with your foul mood.” 

“Little My, if you would just mind your own business, you wouldn’t have to deal with my foul mood. And besides, I think I’m allowed to feel upset,” Moomintroll sat up, bits of twig and dirt sticking behind his ear and to his neck. “and before you ask,  _ no,  _ it is  _ not  _ your business, so don’t even try.”

“I know it’s about Snufkin. But I would expect you to be  _ happy  _ about that,” the girl retorted. 

"Happy about  _ what?  _ That he’s upset with me and I can’t even talk to him? That he’s been missing all morning long, and we’re about to start preparing for the party and he won’t be here? Oh, sure, I’m so happy. Elated,” tears stung gently from the corners of his eyes. “absolutely ecstatic.” His final words were spat rather harshly at her.

Suddenly, to his surprise, My’s eyes went wide and round as dinner plates, and she opened and closed her mouth several times trying to scrape up a sentence, looking like a fish out of water as she did so. However, after all that fuss, she just replied with a flustered, almost  _ guilty  _ sounding little ‘oh’ before getting up and marching away without another word. 

She knew something. But, of course, before he could get up and scurry after her, he was interrupted with Sniff crashing over the bridge, babbling cheerfully about Moominmamma needing more help in the kitchen and oh how  _ good  _ it smelled and how  _ excited  _ he was for tonight’s farewell-Snufkin-and-also-happy-hibernation party (as it had come to be known). Moomintroll stared at him blankly as he just spouted out what was cooking, deciding whether or not he should pass him by and look for Snufkin, or if he should just let go of his discomfort and help in the kitchen. 

He chose the latter, but only because he hadn’t the slightest notion where the Mumrik actually  _ was,  _ and it was the smallest bit unnerving. He probably needed time. Because Moomin had probably made him uncomfortable with his affections. And he was probably going to leave for good this time. 

Little My had said Moomintroll would be  _ happy  _ about the happenings concerning him and his beloved significant other, however, he didn’t have a clue how on earth anybody could be happy knowing that the person-- or, creature, in this case-- they had fallen head over heels for was going to leave them high and dry. Perhaps the Mymble girl was just being mean, per usual. The little white troll swallowed hard and decided he’d do his best not to think of it. Thinking of something so dismal would most definitely be terrible for his health. 

 

Morning had only just begun to end; the midday was breaking through, and it showed greatly. The party itself was being set up, this year at Moomintroll’s own personal house. Snorkmaiden, the Moomins, and Mr. Hemulen were all struggling to keep their eyes open as they sluggishly hung brightly colored lanterns along the overhang of the pinewood porch. More than once, Snork had to gently shake his sister awake, who, unlike him (Snork had taken up working instead of sleeping during the winters), was used to being in bed, sleeping deeply at this time. Even more commonly, he’d shake her awake, holding her softly by her shoulders, and she’d smile drowsily and say “It’s okay, brother, I’m wide awake,” before slumping heavily right on his shoulder and snoring away. Moominpappa was much the same, dozing off while still standing, holding tight to the railing of the steps to steady himself while his eyes fluttered open and closed, sometimes even falling over completely. Mr. Hemulan wasn’t any better; he didn’t even  _ try  _ to hide his need to hibernate, sometimes just full-on yawning and laying down on the porch. But, of course, he’d always wake up, just as everyone did. Despite how exhausted they all were, the party was something they wouldn’t miss for the entire world. Moomintroll even tried to gently suggest that they skip out this year, that it didn’t matter that much, that he would prefer everyone to be safe at home sleeping than risk the chance of falling prey to slumber in the fields and dying of hypothermia over the winter when the snowdrifts buried their bodies with white. However, every one of them protested rather openly, saying that if they could change their biology they would, and that none of them would miss the festivities for anything.

As slow as it took, the porch eventually started to look like…. Some sort of event. More familiar faces had arrived for the party, bringing with them their own dishes they had prepared, all placing the food inside before coming back out to assist. The Mymble’s daughter (or, per her request, just ‘Mymble’) and the inspector came drowsily along, paw in paw, carrying a crock of plum pudding. Ms. Fillyjonk and her three creepily well-behaved children whom, still, despite the years that had passed, still shadowed her every move, slunk up with one jar of peach jam each, explaining that it was for Moomintroll as he had taken up the unfortunate habit of waking up during the wintertime on occasion and would probably be hungry. Sniff and Alicia arrived together, holding up two large casseroles the witch must have magicked up. Even the postman made an appearance, bidding everyone a happy slumber. He didn’t need to hibernate and would keep working through the winter, though he’d most likely make like Snufkin and travel north where snow wasn’t up to everybody’s rooftops. 

Ah, Snufkin. 

Moomintroll had thought someone was missing. He did a headcount, over and over and over, counting everybody standing on his porch. His porch, that he built by himself, for himself…. And Snufkin. His porch, where the party would be held, and that would be terribly barren after everybody left to go to bed. His porch, which was devoid of the  _ one person _ he wanted to see. For the billionth time that day, he sighed, melodramatic and lengthy, absolutely distressed that nobody else seemed too nervous about the Mumrik’s disappearance. Or perhaps they were, but nobody seemed to know where he had escaped off to; it was anybody’s guess. Worst case scenario, he left extra early without saying goodbye. Or perhaps, Moomin thought with a constricting feeling in his throat, that was the best case scenario, and the worst case was something so awful he didn’t even want to let himself think it. His only hope was Little My, who, after being asked where he was by the troll so many times, would just grin and shake her head, little bun bobbing along as she moved. It was comforting, but at the same time, her vagueness invoked an animalistic frustration in Moomintroll that caused him to dive straight for the bottle of wine Snork had only just opened to accompany the radio being brought outside. With no protest from the inventor, Moomintroll pried the cork out with his teeth and poured himself a glass. He needed it. 

Pretty soon, Moomintroll had become a little less stressed about the current situation, and instead was trying to keep up with a very awake Snork, an exhausted Snorkmaiden, a mildly disgruntled at best Sniff, and a tiny, very hard to locate amongst all the movement Little My. The decorations had been given up on due to everybody’s current state, and the radio’s volume had been turned up high, cheerful melodies pouring from the speakers. Currently, he was being flung at different friends, trying his very hardest not to trip. Everybody was preparing their bodies for the huge meal before hibernation, dancing and laughing and doing any activity that required movement to be sure they didn’t doze off on accident. Moominpappa and Mamma were twirling about, dancing comfortably to and fro, the only two with rhythm, while the rest wildly swung this way in that, catching each other in a messy game of  _ I don’t know how to dance but I’m going to try and dance and so are you so please don’t drop me. _ It was one of his  _ favorite  _ parts of the night. 

“Sniff! Coming your way!” He exclaimed, unlinking arms with Snorkmaiden and doing a half-skip towards his timid friend, who caught him just before he toppled to the cold earth below. Pulling him up, he danced about, paw in paw with the troll, laughing his nasally laugh all the while. 

“Just in time!” He crowed happily, puffing out his chest with pride. “You all thought I would trip, I’m actually  _ astounding  _ at thi--” 

He slipped over a leaf, launching his entire body backward and grasping desperately at Moomintroll, who was also falling. In the end, the pair ended up in a pile, and Little My was losing it nearby, laughing loud and open-mouthed as she let the Snork pick her up and giver her a few spins, before gently letting her go aside and instead just barely meeting his sister halfway as she stumbled over to him. Moomintroll quickly scrambled up to pick up the slack, lifting the Mymble girl off of her feet, both of them taken with giggles. Sniff was hopping to his feet to catch Snork, who had been accidentally flung away by Snorkmaiden who had twirled too hard, colliding with him to break his fall and continue the dancing game.

It was great fun, Moomintroll admitted. It always felt fantastic to be with his friends, to laugh and play with them as he always did. However, it just wasn’t the  _ same,  _ not without Snufkin. Boyfriend or not, he was still every bit as part of the group as the rest of them, and his absence was definitely something nobody was comfortable with. Even the group’s little dancing game felt solemn to the troll. Sure, it was delightfully fun being flung this way and that, dizzily prancing and dipping and twirling with his good pals, but it couldn’t even begin to  _ compare _ to the electricity that came with the Mumrik’s touch. Joining paws, the two were the most graceful partners in the world, sweeping across the grass, effortlessly gliding. To them, at least. To the rest, it was the most awkward, uncoordinated, most clumsy little jig anybody had ever seen. But to those two? Oh, it was beautiful. And that was all that mattered. 

However, Snufkin was absent and had missed the dancing completely. Moomintroll worried that he would miss the dinner as well, and he realized it was a very good possibility as the whole party settled onto the steps of the porch, passing ‘round dishes of pies and yams and salads and fish and everything mouth-watering and lovely. His stomach churned with fresh discomfort, and he tried not to think too much about the dread creeping into his chest. Snufkin would come, he assured himself, though he realized that this would most likely prove to be a lie. 

“Moomin, whatever is the matter?” Moominpappa’s voice didn’t register to the troll at first but soon shook him out of whatever trance he had dipped into. “Hello? Moomintroll?” 

“Yes, sorry, Pappa. I’m just sleepy, that’s all,” he lied, smiling wide as he could from where he sat on the bottom step. Everybody else was on the railing around the porch, on the patio furniture, on the flat surface of the wood itself. He, however, hadn’t joined them. He couldn’t, not when he felt like this.

“You haven’t eaten a bite of food. At least eat pine needles, you’ll need those for winter,” Pappa commented, picking up a plate from the small table set up outside and piling it high with the tough green fiber. “And come join us, why don't you! You don’t have to just sit on the steps, you know,” 

“I will, but maybe later,” Moomintroll smiled softly, taking the plate. The needles were bitter and dry in his mouth but he couldn’t care less.

Later came and went. So did the guests. Day gave into the evening, a deep grey plastering the sky, clouds full of snow billowing overhead. It was dark, now, the only lights being from the porch. One by one, everyone bid their goodnights and goodbyes, wishing each other sweet dreams and so and on so forth. The second to last to leave being Moominmamma and Pappa, who voiced their concerns for their son who hadn’t socialized one bit. The troll decided to go with the classic excuse and blamed exhaustion for his lack of interaction. His parents decided that maybe they shouldn’t push it, and instead, gave him a hug and a Moomin kiss each and bid him goodnight. 

The very last to leave, however, was Little My, who, rather uncharacteristically of her, was helping stay after and clean up. The only leftovers were jars of jam and some pudding that had specifically been saved for Moomintroll. The rest of the food had all been eaten, and the dishes brought home by their owners. Now, however, sweeping and gathering bits of streamer that littered the steps to his home commenced. The little Mymble girl hopped this way and that, bundling up trash in her arms and stuffing it into one trashbag Moomintroll had put out. She seemed suspiciously content and happy. 

“Alright, you pest, what’s with you?” He finally asked, not able to bear her cheerful humming much longer. His mood had turned from glum to  _ angry,  _ and he wasn’t even sure why. 

“I’m just very happy about you and Snufkin, is all,” she winked. “aren’t you? Surely he’s broken off being boyfriends with you by  _ now,  _ I mean, you’ve been here all day.” 

What? 

_ What?  _

“He doesn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore,” Moomintroll said slowly, the words forcing themselves out of his mouth. He felt lightheaded. He stared as Little My tied up the bag, dumping into the dumpster bin near the side of the house. 

“No-- not like-- Oh, let  _ him  _ tell you. He said he would. Don’t look so glum, okay?” She offered a comforting pat on his knee, but he ignored it. He ignored her. He felt weak all over, truly exhausted, and he couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“No, I... I’d rather not see him again, actually,” he whispered softly. Just then, the Mymble girl’s face contorted into shock and realization and something sour, like deep concern. 

“Moomin, you know I didn’t mean it like that, now if you’d just listen to me, I can tell you what’s going. Better yet, let Snufkin. He wants you to m--” 

“To hell with Snufkin. If he doesn’t want to tell me he doesn’t love me himself, he shouldn’t get the satisfaction of telling me at all. Good night, Little My, I’ll see you in the spring.” He deadpanned, walking into his house and shutting the door behind him. He locked it, ignoring the furious pounding that came not .5 seconds after. He knew it would end, soon, for it was getting late, and she needed to sleep. 

His prediction had come true, and she was gone within the next ten minutes. Normally, by this time, he would have already kissed his dear beloved Snufkin goodbye and been off to bed, wrapped up in the final moments of warmth from his significant other, dreaming of future kisses in the springtime. Now, however, he was just sitting back outside, completely alone since My had skittered off. He was mad at her. So, so mad. Furious, even, having a hard time bottling up his rage, bouncing his leg up and down quite violently. She kept telling him he should be  _ happy.  _ He should be  _ glad  _ Snufkin didn’t want to be his boyfriend anymore. He wouldn’t have been so upset if the Mumrik had just come out and said it himself, but to hide behind Little My? It was despicable. 

The troll didn’t even notice standing up as his fury directed at the very object of his affections. He didn’t notice bristling with emotion as he thundered off of his porch, not caring that the first snow of the year was getting caught in his fur and stinging him despite his winter coat. How  _ could  _ he? Moomintroll always saw Snufkin as someone brave who could do anything, someone who defied the law and stood up for what was right. Was  _ this  _ right, then? Hiding behind a veil of lies, not explaining how things were and how things had to be? It wasn’t letting go that Moomin had a problem with, he would do anything to make his Snufkin happy, but it was trying to wrap his head around-- to  _ accept--  _ the fact that the Mumrik had just run off like that. Had all of those years of friendship, of falling in love, of slow kisses and lazy days and laughing and crying together really meant nothing? 

It wasn’t fair. Moomintroll was running now, though he didn’t know where to (yes he did) and didn’t know why (yes he did). The icy wind whipped around his poorly equipped body and stung painfully in his eyes. Not fair, not fair, not  _ fucking  _ fair. He was so angry. So angry he could punch something, so angry he could scream at the top of his lungs, so angry he could break the bridge between he and the Vagabond-- both in the metaphorical sense and literal sense. So angry he could stay up all winter. So angry he could dive into the ocean and just drown then and there. So angry he could… He could…. He could…. 

Cry. 

The bridge he had come to associate with such good feelings came into sight, now dusted over with snow and what appeared to be a very large bird. An owl, perhaps. Moomintroll’s chest was heaving, and tears were dribbling messily from his baby blue eyes, plopping onto the frozen earth below. He was disgruntled, exhausted, and unable to run any further. So he walked. He walked slowly and deliberately, hiccuping all the while, staring down at the ground. He was very glad it was only him and that owl, who hadn’t moved an inch. Or, at least, Moomintroll hadn’t thought it did, since he had been looking right at his feet as he shuffled to the bridge, so he had no real way of telling whether it had. He didn’t know what to do. He drew closer, that familiar feeling of warmth being replaced by ice as he closed in on the structure. Perhaps the Groke was here to capture him. 

“Gracious, Moomintroll, my dove, you look absolutely awful, whatever happened?” The owl on the bridge spoke, its voice soothing and warm and all too familiar. It hopped off of the ledge, setting down its fully packed rucksack, pocketing something small it had been fidgeting with its paws. 

Wait. 

“Snufkin?!” He whipped his head up, blinking wildly. “What are you....?!” He couldn’t manage to squeeze the words from his throat. 

“What am I what? Moomintroll, what’s gotten into you? Tell me what’s wrong!” His face was heavy with concern, and he drew closer, reaching out to touch the troll’s snout. 

Moomin flinched back, taking a few steps away, which caused the Mumrik to, in turn, freeze up. His own eyes were wide, and he had this  _ look  _ on his face like it  _ hurt.  _

_ Let him hurt, you don’t care, remember?  _ The troll willed himself to think. 

He would not let a simple touch pull him back in. It took a full five seconds before he could remember to be angry again. And when he remembered, he remembered hard, the emotion coming back in a big ugly wave, exploding fierce in his chest and rendering him breathless, but he yelled anyways. 

The Mumrik had never heard Moomintroll yell before. He hadn’t raised his voice once in true anger his whole life. Sure, the annoyed snap at Sniff or Stinky was heard, but it couldn’t possibly count. Not compared to this.

“You absolute  _ COWARD!  _ How could you? I trusted you to tell me everything, the good and the bad, and now I have to figure this out through Little My?!” He growled, tail lashing back and forth dangerously. 

“ _ She  _ told you? Oh, that spoils things quite a bit, huh? I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you right away, I wanted to talk to you in private about it. She must have forgotten to ask you to meet up with me,” Snufkin said softly, hands held up in a coaxing manner, hoping to calm the troll’s nerves. “I’ll be honest, even if she told you, I sorta expected you to be at least a little excited,” he frowned. 

“ _ Excited?  _ You’re saying I should be excited? Snufkin, how long have you felt like this?!” 

At this, the Mumrik’s eyes softened and spilled over with love, and he actually reached out and  _ grasped  _ Moomintroll’s paws. 

“Oh, since the clumsy little kiss we shared the night your house was finished. I couldn’t stop touching my lips afterward, honestly, it was quite awful to know how bad I had it, and it was even worse at night. It was impossible not to dream about finally doing this,” he smiled, cocking his head affectionately to the side. 

“So you were toying with me?” Moomintroll dropped his paws to his sides, and the anger subsided. Even though it should have spiked, it drained away, leaving him limp and lifeless. He stared at the one he had called his best friend, crush, and after years of pining, boyfriend, with wide, pained eyes. “From our very first kiss together you…?” His voice cracked. 

“Toying? No, of course not, I just wanted to wait to be sure. And I was sure. And I’m sorry you had to figure it out from Little My, but at least now you know, and we can finally get on with our lives.” He was smiling. Wow. That long, huh? It had been that long. Since the very first kiss they shared, so private and delicate, to the troll at least. To Snufkin, it had apparently meant nothing. And now he was talking about moving on, as though that would be easy, as though that would somehow come as naturally for the Moomin as it did for him. “Moomintroll, do you think I’m trying to break up with you?” Realization crossed his eyes, and his lips curled downwards ever so softly. “Because I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore, as I’m sure Little My told you, but…” His voice trailed off, as though he expected everything to be alright now that he had finally admitted it himself. Silence ensued, and Moomin just stared, chest aching. As though his ribs would crack at any moment. As though his heart would split in two and crumble to dust.

All of these years. Laughing with one another, crying with one another. Days spent under the shade of trees, adventuring in the woods, snuggling in bed when neither of them wanted to move. Cooking together, dancing together, sharing the softest, most tender and intimate moments. Wrapping their tails together, intertwining trembling fingertips, locking lips and nuzzling until the world looked rose-gold and everything felt lighter than air. Even on bad days, when they would argue, it was never bad. It took a little time, but they always recovered, kissing their apologies and hugging tight, refusing to let go. 

Moomintroll had wanted to marry Snufkin the moment they had kissed that very first time. Of course, that was obviously too soon, so he decided he would wait. He knew the feelings of wanting to join in matrimony so soon would fade away, but they  _ didn’t.  _ They held fast and strong, only growing with each subtle glance, each moment shared. 

Every feeling, love and deep yearning and all that lay inbetween, had come strong those years they were together, driven deep into Moomintroll’s heart. And now, just like that, in a few words, everything he held dear and sacred fell apart and faded away. 

He took a deep breath, tears streaming fresh from his eyes as his chest tightened once more.

“I hate you, Snufkin.”

The words were foreign on his tongue, sour and burning and a complete lie. That wasn’t true at all. 

“Moomintroll…?” Snufkin’s voice was tiny, scared, a mere whimper. His face had changed, and his paw had reached up to grasp and claw at his chest, a nervous habit he had picked up from long ago. His posture was slumped, and his breathing grew heavy, and he looked as though he were hurting deeper than anything in the world. “Do you think I want to leave you?” He asked carefully, fighting back tears. Moomin did not reply, he only cast his eyes downward. “Because you’re wrong. Your so, so,  _ so  _ wrong. You’re a complete fool to believe that I would ever want to end things with you. Did Little My not tell you?” He choked out. The break in his tone, the strain of his voice, the words he spilled from his lips, they all caused the troll to look up in surprise. 

“But of course you want to leave. Little My  _ did  _ tell me. She said you wanted to stop being my boyfriend. And then you yourself said it,” he was confused and guilty, wanting to wrap the now weeping Mumrik into his arms. But he couldn’t because they weren’t in love anymore. That was also a lie. Moomin loved Snufkin more than the stars in the sky, more than the flowers in summertime, more than  _ anything. _ “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have said it yourself. You say you wanted to stop being involved romantically since our first kiss, so why didn’t you tell me? You lead me on for years,  _ used  _ me,” He inhaled sharply. “but still, I lied about hating you. I don’t. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody in my entire life. I could never hate you, Snufkin, but what you did hurts so deeply..”

“That’s all she told you? Nothing else?” Snufkin gawked, suddenly looking better. “You’re joking,” he said nervously. “aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m not joking, why would I joke about this?” He choked out, trying to get a read on the Vagabond’s face. 

The snow was falling heavier, and Moomintroll, amongst all of the other terrible awful emotions he was feeling, was now growing tired. Hibernation could not be avoided. He would have to leave soon, and probably never see the Vagabond again. This year was, most likely, the last he would ever spend in the valley again. Thick white sheets were falling, almost blizzard-esque, though not quite there yet. Flakes collected in shimmering specks on the two boys’ eyelashes, in hair and fur and on clothes and tails. Everything was breaking, and, how fitting, to have this heartbreak come with winter, to have this heartbreak be accompanied by the leaving of the Mumrik, to have this heartbreak meaning the end of an era, to have this heartbreak represent the end of a love that, to Moomin, was vaster than the ocean. How very symbolic, he thought bitterly.

It was all over, and yet, Snufkin just smiled. 

“My silly dove,” he cooed, placing a small kiss at the end of the troll’s snout, who tensed up and looked quite taken aback. “I suppose it’s too late to tell you now, and the snow is getting quite thick, so I think you should go home. I’ll be back in the spring with a proper explanation. But, for the time being,  _ no,  _ I am most certainly not leaving you. I don’t want to date you anymore because I was going to ask you something that--” he pondered something for a moment. “--well, I suppose we’d still be dating, but it’d be like… Dating tenfold.” 

“What?” 

“I know this apology will be short, and you’ll get another, and many, many more, but I’m so sorry that you ever thought I was going to leave, my love. I’ve been nervous all day, I should have just told you everything sooner,” he took off his hat, slow and gentle, fiddling with it and avoiding eye contact.

“But this morning... You flinched away and left so quickly?” 

“Yes, I know, and I really shouldn’t have. I just panicked. Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I was so focused on making this as romantic and perfect as possible that I completely disregarded how you would feel, and that was terrible and selfish of me,” 

“Make  _ what  _ as romantic and perfect as possible?” Moomintroll’s mood had lifted significantly, and he let Snufkin wipe away tears from his eyes, even placing a warm paw over the Vagabond’s own. “You can’t make me wait until next spring, I’m going to die like this,” he groaned, feeling quite embarrassed that he had just yelled at Snufkin for… Apparently no reason. “I’m sorry I yelled, by the way, I should’ve… Been more civilized about things,” he chuckled wetly, physically unable to stop himself from apologizing. 

“I deserved it, you had every right to be upset with me. I’m so sorry, my sweet, I should leave the romantic things to you,” the Mumrik laughed, stepping closer to nuzzle his face into the troll’s. “I’m afraid this is the worst possible outcome, hmm? Lord, you must hate me deeply right now,” his voice was wavering still, both of them quite upset, but now in a different way. In an exhausted,  _ I missed you so much I love you  _ sort of way. Relief washed over the troll at the touch, and he instantly melted. He was so tired.

“I do, you worried me sick! Where were you? What have you been planning all day?” 

“You mean all  _ month.  _ I’ve been trying to make this something special and grandiose because I know you love big events, but you see, I’m the worst at those,” 

“I like small things much better,” Moomin smiled for the first time all day, pulling back but still holding fast to his (still, thankfully) boyfriend’s waist. 

“I realized that at the last second, but it was too late,” 

The snow was getting harsher, piling up, blowing around and biting at their noses. Snufkin shivered, and despite how the two had cleared things up and were feeling much better, pain jabbed at the troll’s heart. He almost forgot Snufkin was leaving. 

“You should go, I know how much you hate walking in such awful weather,” he said softly, planting one last nuzzle to the cheek he wouldn’t see for three more months.

“I love you, my dear,” Snufkin smiled softly, tears pooling once more in the earthen brown of his eyes. 

“I love you, too, Snufkin.” 

The Mumrik backed away, though his hands lingered on the troll until the very last second. They both began to trail away in opposite directions, however, right before he went out of earshot, the Vagabond mumbled something along the lines of “Your finger, Moomintroll,” and walked a little faster. This had not registered with the troll until he was a good distance from the bridge, and his boyfriend was at the treeline. He looked down at his paw and saw on his left ring finger a little silver thing, messily constructed and a little wobbly. A ring. He paused, stopping dead in the snow. 

Didn’t want to be the troll’s boyfriend. My had said he should be happy about it. He wasn’t breaking up with Moomin, he just wanted to ask him something. He should be happy. More than a boyfriend. A proper explanation next spring. Snufkin had said he wanted to make it perfect and romantic, whatever “it” was. Didn’t want to be boyfriends. The Vagabond wanted to meet him at the bridge and ask him something. Not boyfriends. Something more. The kiss. The ring. 

Realization struck Moomintroll hard enough to jolt him wide awake, and he turned, sharp and full of adrenaline. 

“ _ SNUFKIN!”  _ He shrieked, legs locked up. Not from the cold though. From pure surprise. “SNUFKIN  _ EXPLAIN!”  _

The Mumrik had stopped as well, doubled over with laughter that carried across the distance. Then, he turned on his heel and ran to the middle of the bridge, which was too far away for the little troll to reach. He was already almost home. 

“MOOMINTROLL!” The Vagabond yelled, happier and louder than Moomin had ever heard him before. He had to speak clearly and in short bursts in order to be heard over the harsh winds and snow. “WILL! YOU! MARRY! ME?!” He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. He didn’t wait for an answer. Couldn’t really. “The wind is getting very strong, and I’m afraid if I stay I’ll get caught up in the storm, and so will you! I’ll see you in the spring, so please promise me you’ll answer me then!” 

Moomin took a moment before it all hit him and he sprinted as quick as his little legs could carry him, running fast and hard for the bridge. However, he tripped, and when he scrambled back up, Snufkin was gone. He was breathing heavily, the icy coldness from the blizzard that had crept up seeping into his lungs. He really did need to get home. 

 

Moomintroll snuggled beneath layers and layers of blankets in front of a roaring fire. He didn’t want to sleep in his room that winter, it felt too lonely without Snufkin by his side. So, he had dragged all of his bedclothes and all of the pillows and comforters in the house and made himself a nest of sorts, slowly drifting off there, instead. It had been a week into winter, and he had been so shaken by the events that had occurred the day his boyfr--  _ fiance,  _ actually, had left. He had gotten home that night, locked his doors, and eaten some jam on bread to help him cope. He was wide awake until suddenly, he wasn’t, and he was overly exhausted and so full of emotion and just so…  _ drained  _ that he crashed on his living room floor. The coming spring was going to be a good one, he could feel it in his bones and heart and especially in that one finger where the ring held tight and snug. His answer, of course, was a hard and definite  _ yes,  _ he only hoped Snufkin knew so that he wouldn’t be nervous the three months they spent apart. Oh well. Moomintroll supposed that would get back at the Mumrik for making  _ him  _ so nervous. He smiled to himself, feeling his eyelids droop. He wasn’t angry at all anymore. He knew that Snufkin was anxious, and he realized just a little too late how terrible he was when it came to making big life choices. And that was okay because now they were going to do it together. For the rest of their lives. And that thought alone was enough to lull the tired Moomin into a deep, comfortable sleep, filled with dreams of his beloved coming home and marrying him the following year.


	2. your answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring has finally arrived after three nervewracking months and Snufkin is a bundle of nerves. He just knows that he asked Moomintroll to marry him in the worst way possible. His short trek from the mountains to the bridge he's oh so familiar with is an anxious one, as he must meet with the love of his life and his heart would either soar or shatter depending on the troll's answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is significantly shorter and. sloppier oops. than the last! i hope you dont mind!

The crunch of leaves can barely be heard over a certain Mumrik’s own heartbeat, which is pounding furious and hard in his ribcage, threatening to break out of his chest. Despite the chill in the air, he’s sweating bullets and he feels quite feverish. With each recollection of the day he left Moominvalley for winter, he wanted to vomit. He remembers  _ laughing  _ then, doubling over with sheer giddiness and joy at his dear Moomintroll’s surprise, but now he regrets that. He regrets the scrap silver ring, too, which had been given to him by a crow he had been feeding the winter before-- what kind of sane person wants a piece of junk as a ring? Stupid, stupid Snufkin. 

That winter had been… Awful, to say the least. Regularly, he would have kissed Moomintroll goodbye, and that kiss would have lasted him through the icy cold months, keeping him warm and optimistic, and then he would return in the spring, just as the magical effects of the Moomin’s affections gently ebbed away. He would run with open arms towards his significant other, practically throwing himself at the mass of white fur, and then receive a billion  _ more  _ of those wonderful life-sustaining kisses, and give just as many. It was the routine the two had fallen into, and it was perfect. 

Of course, this year was  _ not  _ regular. For one thing, he had almost left with Moomintroll thinking that he wanted to break it off with him. Had the boy not come to the bridge, angry and sad and confused as Snufkin sat oblivious to his feelings, they might have actually broken up. They made up, thank the Booble, but then Snufkin had to mess it up again by proposing in the clumsiest, worst way possible. 

I mean really, slipping the ring on your partner’s finger secretly then finally popping the question at shouting distance? How unromantic could the poor little Mumrik  _ get?  _

Later that day, he almost threw himself into a panic attack thinking about how foolish he had been and spent the rest of the winter dreading what was to come. There was a definite ‘no’ in store for him. And possibly a hard slap across the face. And one less boyfriend. Which he  _ seriously  _ wasn’t looking forward to, but it was what he had to face. He had done this to himself. 

The valley wasn’t too far away now; in fact, it was just past the Lonely Mountains, which only took a day and a half to clear completely if he took the shortcut he had familiarized himself with. He had completed most of it yesterday, and now, he was on a fast route back home, having left before the sun even came up.

Funny how he used to take the longest path physically possible, how he dreaded going back to Moominvalley at times because the thought of physical contact and social interaction made him ill, how he used to avoid the little creature who had changed his life for the better. Now, however, he  _ yearned  _ for the soft touch of his Moomintroll, craved every smile and kiss and longed deeply for those nights of conversation they shared. The transition from tolerating to enjoying and wanting all of that attention had occurred even before they were dating. He had loved the Moomin for years upon years, just as friends, but love has the ability to change over time. And it did. 

At first, it was the love that involves drinking lemonade together on the porch of Moominhouse, of playing leap-frog amongst the sweetgrass, of greeting each other with a happy wave and fond smile, of giggling over stupid secrets and inside jokes and roughhousing and walking in the woods together and all things you do with your very best friend. Then, slowly, with time, it morphed into something soft, something private, something deeply intimate and secretive. Into nights spent gazing and yearning and longing, of wishing to touch and hold and kiss, of aching for something more than friendship. Finally, it blossomed into something light as air and heavy as the earth all at once. Into days where they didn’t have to speak a single word to each other because they just  _ knew,  _ paws locked, mouths drawn into soft, sweet smiles. Surprise kisses on the neck and shoulders, sharing ugly laughs at the stupidest of jokes, singing along to the radio awfully, napping together in the sunshine and sleeping cuddled up in the same bed. Waking up the other with butterfly-kisses, spending the mornings with soft eyes and bedheads. Sweet nothings and stupid nicknames, it was that perfect cozy kind of love that only comes from years of friendship and trust and deepset pining.

Now, as Snufkin ducked under a rather familiar branch and slid down a little slope on the mountainside, he realized that with his behavior, he jeopardized  _ all  _ of it. Of course, he had known that since the day he left, but didn’t dare think about it lest his entire winter be completely sleepless. It was anyways. And it-- for lack of a better word--  _ sucked.  _ He’d tear himself awake from nightmares about Moomintroll telling him with loveless eyes to leave and never come back, lay awake for hours because memories of the troll yelling at him with fiery, teary, desperate eyes clawed at the inside of his skull, couldn’t eat because his stomach would lurch so violently. He’d cried a lot that winter, too. Because he was scared, because he knew this was his fault, because he couldn’t take it back. It was his problem, and now, he was going to face it head-on. Quite literally, as the rugged forest floor near the base of the Lonely Mountains smoothed out to a dirt road. He had left early,  _ early  _ in the morning, and would most likely arrive just around lunchtime. Maybe he should wait until night fell, wait until everybody was asleep so that he didn’t quite literally tuck his tail between his legs and run upon seeing Moomintroll. But it was too late now, and he could see the roof of the Moomin parents’ odd shaped house, which meant he was close to the bridge and dedicated meetup spot between him and Moomintroll. He swallowed hard, feeling himself break out into another fever-esque sweat, neck heating up in that uncomfortable way it always did. 

 

The small stretch of woods just before Moominvalley was just as lively as ever. Squirrels chattered excitedly to one another, and the birds gossiped about the Mumrik’s arrival up above. He could have sworn that he picked up on the words  _ proposal  _ laced in with their twittering and chirping, but he could be wrong. He chose to ignore them, instead, focusing on the scent of the spring air: blossoms and rainwater and all things wonderfully soft and new and exciting. He listened for the breeze, closing his eyes, letting his senses take over. The leaves rustled, whispering their greetings, and the fresh shoots that poked up from the ground stretched from a deep winter slumber. If he screwed his eyes tight and cleared his mind, this would be a normal day, and he would be excited to see all of his friends again. In fact, maybe he’d even be running up the path, arms outstretched to meet a certain someone halfway, crashing into a lengthy and desperately needed embrace. But he was absolutely positive that wouldn’t happen. He more expected yelling, maybe even a punch to be thrown, if Moomintroll even showed up at all. 

The bridge soon came into view, but there was no troll in sight. Anxiety pooled in the depths of Snufkin’s gut, and his hands jittered. Maybe it was because he wasn’t playing his harmonica. Of course, of course, that was it! Nobody was there because the harmonica was part of the  _ routine! _

He slowly pulled his mouth organ from his pocket, feeling the cool metal from beneath his fingertips. Right, right, just focus. He closed his eyes once more as he walked, listening to the wind, the trees, the birds. The thrum of the earth, the flow of the stream. The dirt beneath his boots was soft as he walked, though it eventually gave way to familiar wooden planks that he loved oh so much. Alright. He could do this. He slowly opened his eyes, soft and brown and much calmer than they were previously, and stood smack in the middle of the bridge. Even though his beloved no longer lived at Moominhouse, the sound of his harmonica had proved to be able to carry across the whole of the valley, alerting the little white troll wherever he was. 

He opened his mouth, drawing the object closer, and let his heart and mind fill with soft reminiscence of his dove. He pressed it to his lips and… 

Several birds flew from several trees as the shrill, high, sour note broke everybody’s eardrums within a two hundred mile radius. Snufkin, surprised at his own terribleness, drew back, looking wildly flustered despite nobody being around. Alright. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Perhaps… playing the harmonica at this time of heavy anxiety and anticipation… was a bad idea. 

Suddenly, just as he was about to head towards the bank to set up camp and try to talk to Moomintroll tomorrow, he heard a yell, loud and clear, coming from the direction of the troll’s own home, which lay a little ways away from Moominpappa and Moominmamma’s. Snufkin pocketed the mouth organ, dropped his rucksack, and squinted, running off of the bridge and into the field closest to the house, trying to see what the commotion was about. The voice was still calling out, though the emotions of it couldn’t be identified yet. The flowers tickled the Mumrik’s ankles as he waited with tensed muscles. Was someone hurt? Should he run to go help? Should he run towards the source to go help without getting anyone else?

Or, he realized, with his heart leaping up into his throat, should he run  _ away?  _

A small shape, round and white, was barreling at him at speeds he hadn’t even seen before. The shouting? Well, that was his very name, being called in a thunderous bellow from none other than Moomintroll, a white blob growing bigger and clearer by the minute. His arms were clawing at the air as though he were swimming, and his tubby little legs were pumping faster and harder than Snufkin would ever expect for such stocky little things. 

“ _ SNUFKIIIIIIN!”  _ He screamed again, louder due to his close proximity, drawing nearer all the while. “THE DAY YOU LEFT! YOU ABSOLUTE  _ IDIOT,   _ I’M GOING TO  _ KILL YOU!”  _

Fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight. The Mumrik willed his legs to move-- he didn’t want to be caught in a collision that would more than likely break every single bone in his entire body. But he couldn’t  _ move.  _ He couldn’t even breathe. This was it. 

One hundred feet. Seventy. Forty-five. Fifteen. Ten. About a leap away from demolishing the boy and his hat right on the spot. 

Snufkin closed his eyes and braced for impact, flinching away and turning his head, breath hitching in preparation for the softest cannonball in the world to come and just annihilate him on the spot, tensing up, expecting a slap to be burning his cheek at any moment. 

However, what greeted him instead caused his eyes to blow wide open, and his whole body went into shock as soft lips collided awkwardly and messily with his own, and a pair of familiar arms wrapped tight around his middle and spun him, turning him ‘round ‘til the two crashed onto a patch of soft, fresh clover below, sweet with dew. His hat flew off during the fall, lazily drifting back down and landing with a muffled  _ fwop  _ onto the grass beside them. They were a heap of tangled limbs amongst the greenery, Moomintroll’s arms still holding tight to Snufkin’s waist, face buried into his shoulder, eyes closed softly. Cautiously, the Mumrik lifted a paw to rub comforting circles into the troll’s back, as he now felt the tremors of the body on top of him and realized that the Moomin must be crying.

“Hi,” Snufkin whispered when the head on his shoulder pulled back, and he was left gazing into the oceans of Moomintroll’s eyes. 

“I’m going to marry you,” he choked out, rolling off of the Vagabond, flopping onto his back beside him instead. “I’m going to marry you and we’re going to be husbands and I will love you deeply with every bone in my body, I’m going to love you until I cannot possibly give any more love, and then I’m going to love you some more.” He was out of breath, panting softly. Whether it was from the running or the yelling or the kissing or the twirling, Snufkin had no way of knowing. Probably a combination of all. Snufkin, of course, had no right to say anything; he himself had the wind knocked out of him, and currently couldn’t muster a single word. The answer was yes. The answer to his question that was asked so awfully at such a terrible time was  _ yes.  _ Not ‘I’ll think about it,’ not ‘I’m not sure if we’re ready yet, but maybe,’ not ‘sure,’ but  _ yes.  _

Tears sprung into the Vagabond’s eyes, and he felt a wave of relief and exhaustion wash over him. Suddenly, before he knew it, he was  _ sobbing.  _ Fat, hot tears rolled copiously down his cheeks. He felt the troll desperately scramble to cup his cheeks and try to soothe him, but the stream held strong, pouring down his cheeks and rolling onto his chin, pooling at the corners of his mouth and falling to the grass and down his shirt. He had never cried so hard or so much before. 

All of the anxiety that had gripped his bones and weighed him down as he walked to the valley was  _ gone.  _ Every single bit of it wrung out of him like water in a cloth, and it was such a relief to be able to breathe again. He had barely slept all winter, unable to due to the fact that he  _ hadn’t let Moomintroll answer before he left,  _ and now-- this was it. Real, tangible, not a dream in the slightest. 

The fear of being rooted to something-- someone, in this case-- wasn’t quite there anymore. Despite now being committed to one person for the rest of his life, Snufkin had never felt so free. It was as though nothing had changed. The two had discussed marriage before, and at first, it scared the Vagabond. And he said that to the troll, wanting to be honest. He told his boyfriend that he didn’t want to be trapped in Moominvalley, that he  _ couldn’t  _ stay for winter, that he still needed time alone. Marriage didn’t allow that. Marriage meant spending every day with the person you tied yourself to, not getting a break, never getting time alone, always catering to someone else’s needs.

However, Snufkin soon learned on his travels that this wasn’t true in the slightest. He once met a traveler-- a Hemulen, who had said that his wife was somewhere on the other side of the ocean. Had been for a few months. She was a scientist and had to be rushed across a whole entire body of water to perform crucial experiments, and so he waited for her by traveling the world. They would write, still keeping in contact, but other than that… They never really saw each other. But there was clearly still love there, holding fast and strong, despite the two have been married for almost twenty years. 

Marriage was not a cage. It was not shackles. It was not anything that Snufkin was lead to believe it was. It was beautiful and intimate and something he  _ wanted  _ with Moomintroll. And now? It was finally in his grasp. It was finally happening because his beloved dearest one barreled toward him at the speed of sound and tumbled into him with the force of a meteor striking earth, planting little springtime kisses in every place he could reach. Snufkin wanted to say something brilliant that would floor his dear Moomintroll, make his cheeks turn that cute peach color, make his gaze soften and mouth draw into a small, tiny, bashful smile. However, he could only blubber and press his face into his fiance’s chest and choke out, in a little voice, “Are you sure?” His voice wavered, and he felt the troll’s grasp around him tighten. “You promise me?” 

“Of course,” his voice was a mere whisper, now. The softness from such an enthusiastic creature sent thrills down Snufkin’s back, and he couldn’t stop himself as he placed a rather weepy kiss to his Moomintroll’s mouth, who promptly kissed back. They both smiled into it, relishing in one another’s warmth. 

 

The sun winked over the horizon, barely even casting her molten gold light over the valley when Snufkin felt Moomintroll untangled himself from him and heard the little beast stretched widely as a near-silent yawn passed through his lips. The Mumrik rolled around, still wrapped up in the thick, flower print blanket on the mattress he was currently snuggled up on. He and Moomin had come straight to the troll’s house, crying all day until they got tired, and then Snufkin removed his hat and boots and big coat and crawled into bed with his fiance. The two didn’t doze off immediately, as usual when the slept in the same bed, but talked for  _ hours  _ about absolutely nothing and everything at once. It was such personal intimacy that the Mumrik wasn’t at all used to, but he basked in the embrace of his dear beloved. 

The morning air was still quite crisp and chill and the thought of rising out of the little safe haven Snufkin and Moomintroll had created for themselves out of blankets and pillows wasn’t at all appealing, even to the Mumrik, who was usually quite the early riser. Today, however, he just wanted to snuggle up closer and fall right back to sleep. So he did. Shuffling, he wrapped his arms tight around his fiance, who was still sitting up. 

“Snufkin?” He heard the familiar voice just above him, groggy and soft and sweet. 

“No waking up… Too sleepy,” he managed to murmur, squeezing tighter. He felt soft fingers card through his messy hair, perhaps attempting to tame it. 

“But we have to get up  _ some _ time, dearest,” the voice chuckled. 

“No, that’s quite alright. You just stay here, and so will I, and we can snuggle all day long. We don’t need to do anything,”

“Shall we at least tell the others we’re engaged to one another?” 

“That can wait.” 

“Don’t you want to go on an adventure?” 

“That can wait.” 

“Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t eat yesterday,” Moomintroll gently used his paw to lift Snufkin’s face, revealing a quite groggy boy, whose hair was sticking up this way and that, and his eyes were warm and sweet from a good night's rest. They locked with the troll’s own baby blues, which crinkled softly at the corners in deep affection. “I could make us some coffee and pancakes. And we don’t even have to get up fully, we could just snuggle up under a blanket and eat,” 

“Well  _ I  _ can make coffee, it’s alright. Don’t busy yourself with cooking, my dove,” the Mumrik, although reluctant at first, complied, sitting up slowly and stretching. He let out a long yawn, bones popping and muscles tensing and releasing. 

“It’s alright, I like cooking. ‘Specially for you,” came the gentle reply, the last three words murmured due to proximity. Snufkin opened his eyes at the sudden closeness, just in time to see his fiance close the final gap between them, pleasant chills lifting the hairs on his neck as he was kissed softly. It was warm and familiar, everything that a good morning kiss ought to be. 

“Fine. May I suggest a compromise then?” 

“Lay it on me,” Moomintroll lazily rolled off of the mattress, eyes half-lidded and still half-stuck together from sleep. 

“We cook together,” the Mumrik followed, gently running the tips of his fingers along the troll’s arm, who made a content hum, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“Perfect,” he cooed, pressing his snout to Snufkin’s forehead in a proper Moomin kiss. Lacing their fingers together, he lead the Mumrik out of the room, both of them barely awake, stumbling over one another like newborn fawns. It was a rather clumsy process, but neither of them cared too much. It seemed as though they were still asleep, in fact, their chests warm and heads full of stardust and cotton candy. 

 

The kitchen was alive with music crackling exuberantly from the gramophone, the occassional skip or scratch from the vinyl records going completely unnoticed by the occupants of the kitchen. They were far too busy-- Moomintroll was whisking a large bowl of pancake batter as Snufkin checked the heat on the stove and ground coffee beans. They were talking cheerily, having completely woken up after a few moments of being in the rather exciting kitchen. 

Suddenly, without any rhyme or reason, Snufkin stole the bowl from the Moomin, setting it down nearby and tugging the slightly confused boy into his arms, swaying his hips as he did so, stumbling over his lanky legs. Moomintroll laughed as he allowed himself to be led into a clumsy, messy little dance, twirling on beat with the music, hopping from side to side, tail swishing to and fro. 

“You’re so awful at dancing, my dove,” Snufkin cooed sweetly as he let the troll lift him up and twirl him ‘round, setting him down mid-spin. 

“Why, you’re even worse! Spindly little spiderlegs,” 

“Hush!” They both laughed, eyes twinkling, paws tugging at one another as their messy little dance continued. 

“I really must pour the batter into the pan, though, or else we won’t have pancakes! Snufkin, unhand me at once,” 

“Oh, but why should I? I  _ could  _ keep you in my arms and sway with you forever,” the Mumrik replied playfully, but his attempts at keeping the movement alive had failed, for he found himself being swept up bridal-style and held close to his fiance’s chest. 

“I always forget you weigh no more than a flower petal,” 

“This isn’t fair!” 

“Of course it isn’t, my sweet. Weren’t you the one who told me that nothing in life is fair when we were children?” 

“N-no...That was Moominpappa,” he lied.

“No, it wasn’t, I remember because I specifically thought ‘Goodness, he’s right. It isn’t fair that I’m not kissing him, and even less fair that I shall probably never do so,’” 

This seemed to shut Snufkin right up. He sat, flushed and grinning stupidly in his fiance’s arms, bewildered that he ever did  _ anything  _ to deserve his dear sweet Moomintroll. It was strange, truth be told, that they hadn’t realized their feelings much, much sooner. Everyone seemed to know how they felt about one another except them. Little My, Moominmamma, and Pappa were first. Then came Snorkmaiden, who let it slip to Snork, and both of the siblings had their share of fun teasing the two lovebirds. Last to understand was poor Sniff, who merely believed that it was just a regular best friend behavior to gaze longingly at one another. Even the Mymble’s daughter found out before him, and she was seldom around the two. 

That was in the past, though. Now, their feelings were fully realized, understood, and reciprocated. 

 

Breakfast was delightful, the two having bought their small stacks of pancakes and a jar of strawberry jam and cups of coffee out on the porch. They ate and talked and soaked up the early morning sunshine, tails wrapped around one another, bodies pressed close, hearts thumping in sync. Snufkin couldn’t help but cast loving glances to the troll next to him, who sometimes would look back, but for the most part, didn’t seem to take notice. Perfection, Snufkin thought softly. Absolute perfection. Nothing in the world could ever compare to this-- to them. 

Soon, the two would have to go about and tell the others of the good news. It would be exciting, but exhausting all the while. However, that could wait. Right now, the valley was still peaceful and quiet, some beasts still deep in their winter slumber, some simply deciding to take the first few days of spring to themselves in preparation for the inevitable influx of greetings and interactions and celebrations. Just for a little bit, perhaps a few days, perhaps a mere hour, the two had every field, every forest, every mountain, and the whole ocean to themselves. This was enough, Snufkin thought. It was plenty. Even if their time alone would be interrupted soon, it didn’t matter, for every second spent with his dear Moomintroll felt like an eternity of bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am So Soft for comfortable relationships. these fics im writing that are about established relationships and marriage and kissing ur fiance and doing domestic things together is literally just me projecting,,, i want wife,,,, and cottage,,,,, that is all

**Author's Note:**

> might fuck arnd and make like,,, a slowburn chapter fic if anyone wants to read that


End file.
